


With Such Amazing Grace

by Icarus (Slickarus)



Category: Spring Awakening - Sheik/Sater
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Based on the Ask Verse, Hurt/Comfort, Melchior's very Sick, max is a good friend, so mentions of vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2018-03-22
Packaged: 2019-04-06 08:44:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14053227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slickarus/pseuds/Icarus
Summary: When Melchior's stomach is turning itself inside out, Max decides to be a pal and look after him. It turns out that Melchior was feeling even worse than he initially let on...





	With Such Amazing Grace

**Author's Note:**

> It's not quite a secret that I run the character ask blog of [ask-melchior-gabor](http://ask-melchior-gabor.tumblr.com), and the context for this story is basically that Melchior had a wicked stomach bug and Max von trenk ([ask-max-von-trenk](http://ask-max-von-trenk.tumblr.com)) came over to take care of him. My pal Ben (whom I have to thank for me pushing through and writing this) and I were kicking around what that interaction might be like. Important to note that even though this is set in the ask verse and I run one of the blogs, this isn't meant to be canon (although it doesn't clash with canon...) and was just an exploration of the characters that we did for fun. So, without further ado, please enjoy.
> 
> oop! forgot to mention, the title comes from The Clouds Will Drift Away

Sometimes, Max had to question the decisions in his life that brought him to where he was now. The ‘where’ being the bathroom in Melchior Gabor’s house, and the ‘now’ being 8:26 in the morning. Max would have gone straight to Melchior’s bedroom, but as he began to climb the stairs, he heard the sound of a toilet flush, followed by a pitiful moan, so he walked down the hallway a little further to see the bathroom door ajar and Melchior inside, sprawled on the tile floor, and looking like a corpse.

“Oh my god; you weren’t joking.”

Melchior slowly turned his head up, registering the new presence in the doorway.

“I’m never joking,” Melchior croaked. “What are you doing here?”

“I said I’d come by, remember?” Melchior blinked his eyes slowly, as if the past would reveal itself to him. He looked so pitiful lying there that Max didn’t really know whether to laugh at the absurdity of it or help him out. He opted for the latter and knelt down beside Melchior, rubbing a hand on his back. “How long have you been here?”

Melchior’s face twisted into something between confusion and discomfort. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Time has no meaning for me. All I have is misery.”

Max couldn’t help but laugh, and Melchior shot him a scowl. Well, it was supposed to be a scowl, but Melchior couldn’t make it all the way because he pulled himself back up to the toilet and heaved into it.

“Well, that’s disgusting,” Max commented. He stood up and started to fill a cup of water from the sink, unable to understand whatever response Melchior muttered from his place at the toilet. “Drink this.”

Melchior took a sip of the water, gargled with it, and spat it into the toilet. “I hate being sick,” he whined before drinking the rest of the water.

“I know,” Max said. “Maybe we should get you back to bed.” Melchior moaned again, and Max had to smile again at the ever-eloquent boy who was rendered now to a mere shell of himself. The color had left Melchior’s face, and he could barely respond in a coherent manner to anything. Before Melchior could protest, Max put an arm under Melchior’s and pulled him to his feet. Melchior put more of his weight than Max was expecting on his shoulder, but he managed to half walk, half drag Melchior back to his bedroom.

“You should try to get some sleep; that’s the best thing for you right now.” Melchior shook his head, mumbling something that could have been ‘you don’t know what’s best for me,’ but honestly Max couldn’t understand him. He guided Melchior to the bed and pulled the sheets over him without any protest from the sick boy. “I guess I can, I don’t know, go downstairs? And I’ll check on you in a bit?”

Melchior shook his head. “I can’t sleep.”

“You haven’t even tried yet. I’ll just leave you alone and you can-”

“No, I mean I haven’t been able to sleep. I close my eyes, and I,” his words caught in his throat, and in the dim light that was making its way past the window blinds, Max thought he saw a tear glint on Melchior’s cheek. “I haven’t slept in a week,” he admitted. “Or however long it’s been since Moritz went home. I can’t get comfortable in bed, I can’t-” he choked on his tears again, heaving out a soft sob. “I can’t fall asleep by myself and I know it’s pathetic, but it’s the truth. I thought I was more independent than this.” He sniffled and wiped at his face. “And I know that the value of autonomy is completely subjective, but I can’t  _ fucking _ fall asleep and it makes me so-” he broke off into a series of sobs, and after a moment he felt Max’s arms wrap around him. Max could feel the shoulder of his shirt getting soaked, but he just patted Melchior’s back until Melchior pulled back abruptly and put a hand over his mouth. Max instinctively grabbed a nearby trashcan and shoved it under Melchior’s chin. He leaned over it for a moment, but nothing came out. “I guess I have nothing left in my stomach,” Melchior said, setting the trash can back on the floor and slumping back on his bed.

Max stared at Melchior for a moment, unsure of what to do. He’d only really known Melchior for a few months, and even in that short time, he’d begun to realize that Melchior was much more fragile than he let on. He built up walls with his rhetoric and philosophy that made it seem like he had nothing to fear, but behind his glassy eyes, Max could see something different. Something childish and afraid. It was the same way he’d looked out into space on the night when he’d lost control and broken Max’s rib. If Max hadn’t seen Melchior like this before, he might have said that Melchior looked totally unrecognizable lying on his bed in a feeble slump.

“Do you want to be alone?” Max offered. For a moment, he wondered if Melchior had even heard him, but Melchior eventually shook his head and turned to look at Max.

“I know I’m sick, but will you hold me?” There was a supreme earnesty in his voice.

“Of course, Chior.” If Melchior had been feeling better, he might have rolled his eyes at Max’s ridiculous nickname, but instead he did his best to scoot over on the bed to make room for Max. He kicked off his shoes and climbed into the bed with Melchior, pulling the covers over them both. “How do you want me to…”

“It doesn’t really matter,” Melchior mumbled, slowly rolling his body over to curl around Max’s side. He rested his head on the pillow and Max could feel Melchior’s unsteady breaths against his neck. He shuffled his arm around Melchior’s shoulder a bit and pulled him in towards him, tipping his head back and letting his eyes close.

_ “Gnight Chior,”  _ he thought, even though it wasn’t really nighttime. After a few minutes, the rhythm of Melchior’s breathing began to steady and match the rise and fall of Max’s chest. Max figured that eventually, Melchior would be sleeping well enough that he could get up and move around if he wanted to, maybe even go grab his bag from downstairs and draw Melchior snuggled up in his sheets in a rare moment of tenderness, but right now, he really wanted nothing more than to lie on the bed and feel his friend’s heart beating against his own chest.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! As always, leave kudos or comments if you enjoyed this, and come visit me on any of my blogs, from my melchi one (linked above), to my [theater blog](http://thatsilvermagic.tumblr.com), to my [main](http://zartharn.tumblr.com)!


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